


Ourselves Together

by Officer_Jennie



Series: Requested Works [5]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-12-17 17:08:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21057962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Officer_Jennie/pseuds/Officer_Jennie
Summary: A story for the wonderful, skilled, and ever so kind WBY! Supernatural domestic fluff with a side of stupid society stigmas. Hope you enjoy ;D





	Ourselves Together

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WrithingBeneathYou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WrithingBeneathYou/gifts).

> A story for the wonderful, skilled, and ever so kind WBY! Supernatural domestic fluff with a side of stupid society stigmas. Hope you enjoy ;D

Coming home had never felt so wondrous. Madara hardly waited for the door to shut behind them before he was physically shaking off the usual illusion, his entire body tingling with delight as it was freed, ash falling from his hair and senses sharpening as he did. After an extremely arduous day it always felt like a good molting, something he’d been itching to go off to the countryside and do for _ages_ and yet never seemed to find the time to do so. At this rate his scales would be painfully uncomfortable when he finally got the chance to wear them again.

This summer. Work and financial constraints and natural disasters be _damned_, he was going to wear his other skin and shed scales all over his old romping ground this summer, and not give two flying sprites’ asses if a single human saw him do it. Fangs and claws and horns out at home simply wasn’t enough to keep him sane forever, not when he longed to soar and feel the wind beneath his wings again.

“Do we need groceries?”

Madara cracked his eyes back open, giving himself a final good shake before following Tobirama down the short hall and into the living room. His mate hardly looked any different at home than he did anywhere else, all his markings on full display despite the social stigma, only the glow that they emitted dulled down so as to not make a spectacle of himself. Seeing him glow now as he sank into the tan cushions of their sofa with a sigh set something hot in Madara’s blood. His markings like garnet shinning in firelight, reminding him of the years he’d spent courting him, gems and books and oddities from the world round brought to him to see what would catch his eyes and make them glow as well - but he pushed all of that back for now, moving to settle himself in at Tobirama’s side and tug the man into his chest.

“Didn’t you just get some Wednesday?” Putting his claws to good work, he scratched at the back of his mate's head, instantly being rewarded with Tobirama practically melting against him. Turning the water spirit into a puddle was a gift of his, one he used more often than was probably necessary, but his mate did love to work himself to death. It was hardly his fault for wanting to make the most of their quiet moments and help him relax.

It meant it took a good few seconds for him to respond, at first only being able to hum before he found his voice again, words mumbled more than spoken as he tucked himself right in under Madara’s arm. “Mmmm, I did. Don’t need anything else?”

“Not that I know of.” He didn’t exactly keep a mental list, though, but he assumed if they were in desperate need of something they’d know it. Not that those sorts of assumptions hadn't bitten him in the hind quarters a good few times.

Tobirama shifted and pushed at his side a bit to get him to move, re-situating them until Madara was leaning back into the corner of the couch, Tobirama laying in his arms and grabbing for the patchwork quilt Hashirama had slopped together the summer before. No matter how many times Madara had begged Tobirama to scorch the thing or at least toss it out he’d been ignored, his mate thinking it a darling gift - which had only solidified his theory that there wasn’t a Senju alive with actual good tastes in décor or treasure for their hoard.

Gods he loved his mate, but keeping such a horrid conglomeration of patterns, pastels, and what could only be described as _puke green thread_ holding it all together on such prominent display in their den as if _proud of it_ was just- just, well. Something he didn’t have the words to begin describing. But it said something about the man, and that’s all he needed to know, and that _something_ wasn’t a compliment either.

“We can stay in for the weekend,” the unknowingly accused of horrendous taste mused, drawing Madara’s attention away from the garbage he’d just draped over the both of them and back to the puddle oozing on his chest. The musing was an exceptionally pleasant distraction from his mental bashing, just the thought alone drawing a pleased plume of smoke out of him that curled in the air above, his hand moving to soothe between his mate's shoulder blades as he mused himself.

A weekend alone. Just the two of them. No disguises or illusions necessary, a few whole days spent lazying about their den like they hadn’t been able to do in far too long. Perhaps they could reorganize some of the shelves that held their treasures (”_knickknacks_” as Hashirama incorrectly called them, the dolt), or their rather overloaded bookshelves. Or maybe they could just spend it tucked away under the furs in the bedroom, actually taking their time with each other instead of the quick shower fucks their tight schedules had reduced them to as of late. Either or would be perfect in his eyes: poking about the treasures he’d collected over the decades or mixing their scents together in the bedroom. No matter which they went with his instincts would be singing with joy every second they spent together.

“You’d better hope a window’s cracked.”

The tease and poking finger at his ribs shut the smoke off, but there was little helping the nice cloud of it he’d made in his absent wondering. It hung heavy in the air and left the entire room hazy, no doubt soaking into the wooden coffee table and staining the picture frames hanging on the walls. Guess some of the weekend would have to be spent washing them again. He grumbled as he drew his mate closer, cutting the man’s snickering to a halt when he tugged him up to nip at his lower lip. Soon enough he found himself far too distracted with the taste of them to think about anything else, losing himself to the feel of their tongues moving together, hands trailing the known path of crisscrossing marks all over Tobirama’s body without needing sight to guide them.

A weekend to themselves. Nothing in the world had ever sounded so sweet to his ears - save perhaps the way his mate would be moaning his name by the time the night was over.


End file.
